


The Chant

by Nievia



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 03:02:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 7,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2051091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nievia/pseuds/Nievia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tempest Hawke finds herself in an unusual refuge for an apostate such as herself, and finds an even more unusual relationship with the Brother who sings the nightly Chant.<br/>(Sebastian Vael x Tempest Hawke)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

   Her breathing was ragged as she sat on the steps of the Chantry, her arms around her middle and her staff clattering to the ground from her cool fingers. She had to leave, be anywhere but _there_ where her mother blamed her for Bethany and her brother hated her for everything she did. She knew it was foolish to run here of all places, especially since the Templars would no doubt lock her up and throw her, kicking and biting, into the Circle.

   The same Circle her father had died trying to get away from. The same Circle who turned mages into walking husks called Tranquil for being “too dangerous” for the world. But nevertheless, she sat on the steps, holding her middle like it was the only thing keeping her from falling into little pieces onto the ground before her. Her mother’s words still pounded into her head like a pickaxe into stone. _I wish it were you._

   Tempest’s breath misted out from between her chapped lips, warming the cold winter air. “Maybe I wish it was me too, Mother.” She whispered to herself, “Maybe if it was me we could all just get along, and I wouldn’t have to hear my tit of a brother complain all the time.”

   A shiver rushed through her body, thin from lack of proper nourishment since arriving in Kirkwall and being forced to work for mercenaries and live with Uncle Gamlen. She hadn’t been able to eat properly, putting her family’s needs in front of her own.

   “By Andraste, you’re going to freeze out here, Serah.” Tempest jolted at the brogue accent, lilting with every ‘r’ spoken, and turned to see cerulean eyes staring at her from the shadows. “You should come inside, the Chant is about to be sung before the day ends.”

   The man held out a hand, a small smile on his softened features as Tempest stared, mouth opening and closing stupidly as she caught a full view of his face. “Okay,” she managed lamely, taking his outstretched hand and scooping up her fallen staff and smiling at him shyly.

   He led her into the large, ornate building before them, opening the large doors and letting warm candlelight and the smell of anointing oil waft out and brush against Tempest’s cold-flushed cheeks. She knew it was stupid to walk into the very place she ran from. She knew that Templars often hung around the Chantry when off duty. But she was cold and curious, having not been to a service before for obvious reasons. Besides, the Brother’s hand holding her elbow and guiding her was warm and soft, and she found herself unable to pull away.

   When they stopped and her mind was tugged unwillingly from the warmth of his calloused palm on her elbow, she found herself standing beside a row of pews and sitting down quietly. His eyes followed her movement as he silently prayed for forgiveness for the thoughts running through his mind caused by this woman he had just met.

   “Service is starting,” he said, shifting his eyes onto the floor between her boot-clad feet, trying to concentrate on anything but her. “Can we talk after?”

   Sebastian groaned inwardly. _Maker I’m an idiot._ He knew she was a temptation, he could tell by the sensation fluttering around his stomach as he strode away, his cheeks a light tinge of pink at the thought of even having touched her. Elbow or not, she was soft. But by Andraste, _why would she go out in this sort of weather only wearing leggings and a sleeveless top?_

   He shook his head, repelling the thoughts as he stood in front of the small crowd gathered for the nightly service, and started to sing the Chant.


	2. Benedictions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tempest listens to Sebastian, the strange Chantry Brother, sing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm so happy I've gotten kudos. Maybe it's kind of silly to be excited over people I don't know enjoying my writing, but thank you nonetheless! Also, sorry it's so short. *shrugs* But know that there will be more coming up.  
> Anyways, if I failed to mention that this would just be a series of ficlits and random daydreams that pass through my mind, let this be known now. And these "chapters" of this particular work are only the first work of the series I'm starting about Tempest Hawke and Sebastian Vael. :) Enjoy and thank you SO much for reading!  
> ALSO! Here is Benedictions 4:10-11. I just added it for flavor, considering Tempest is kind of fawning over it...
> 
> Blessed are they who stand before  
> The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.  
> Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just.(Benedictions 4:10)  
> Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow.  
> In their blood the Maker's will is written. (Benedictions 4:11)

            Tempest couldn’t breathe as she watched the handful of people stand to join their voices with the Brother’s thickly accented, woeful voice. His blue eyes were shadowed and his deep voice rang out, filling the large room with the Chant of Light and leading the faithful in their worship. She could only wonder why she started singing with them, when she herself had never particularly believed in the Maker. But hearing the Brother’s voice, strong and unwavering, made her wonder if the Maker was real, wonder if someone could have such faith in anything that wasn’t.

            She closed her eyes and willed herself to learn the words he was pouring into the congregation, willed herself to learn the verses of Benedictions 4:10-11. They had managed to weasel their way into her brain, even after the service was over and she stood alone, still standing, still singing softly to herself.

            She had never felt the need to memorize anything but the incantations or poultice recipes her father had taught her when she was young, but when the Brother’s voice changed in Benedictions, when his eyes flared with salvation, she couldn’t help but replay the words that he had sang. When his hand fell on her shoulder, his eyes sparkling, she found her breath rattling in her lungs as she attempted to tell him just how _strange_ she felt at that moment. How confused, convicted, convinced, even.

But she didn’t. Something inside of her was adamant that if the Maker _did_ exist and had in fact created everyone and everything – including mages – then she wouldn’t have to hide. She wouldn’t have to run away from who she was, be feared, be so dreadfully _alone._ She told herself, even when he asked her how she liked the service so innocently, almost like a small child asking for a puppy, that she couldn’t, _wouldn’t,_ believe.

Not even for cerulean eyes and soft brown hair.

But his smile… she _might_ do it for the smile that made her knees weak, and her breath leave her lips in a silent plea for him to kiss her.

            She found herself struggling, drowning in her puppy-love and stubbornness. So maybe that’s why she went back home to Gamlen, Mother, Carver, and Crux with a smile on her face and the smell of wax candles faintly in her hair. She, despite the inner battle with herself, wondered if she would ever see him again. Especially after the loud scolding she got from both her mother and her tit of a brother.


	3. Traveling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some random fluffy things that happen in camp while Tempest and Sebastian travel together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... this one is pretty random, but then again these are mostly drabbles about whatever comes into my... interesting... brain. ANYWAYS! This one is short, and I would say I'm sorry but... I'm kind of not. I mean, these ARE ficlits and drabbles. Short and sweet. I just hope you like it <3 thank you for reading and for the kudos (if you give me any) :D

            Sebastian was dead tired. His normally sparkling eyes were glazed over with exhaustion, his feet dragged with every step, and his typically slicked back hair was coming undone, strands flopping into his eyes and around his ears. As soon as their camp was set up and his bedroll was laid out, he collapsed next to the building fire and groaned, not bothering to take off his armor. He _hated_ travelling.

            “Sebastian,” Tempest said, her voice lulling him along with the cracks and pops of the fire.

He grunted in reply, not bothering to open his eyes.

“You’re going to be sore tomorrow if you don’t take off your armor.”

            He hummed his agreement and sat up, lethargy slowing his movements as he started to his attempts to unbuckle his chest-piece without opening his eyes. It wasn’t long before his hands fell in exasperation to his side and Tempest was chuckling and kneeling next to him, pushing the loose strands of hair out of his face and deftly unbuckling his armor.

            He tried not to think of how her hands felt when they occasionally brushed his skin, or how nice she smelled when she leaned into him for a closer look at his armor. He tried to pray to forget it, but his head kept turning back to her eyes, her hands, and the scent of firewood and roses that clung to her skin. The thought of her kept him wide awake, awake enough to open his eyes and watch her pale hands, scarred from countless battles work on the armor that clung to his form.

            Maybe travelling wasn’t so bad after all…


	4. Cleaning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tempest offers Sebastian to help with the cleaning.

“Sebastian, you promised!” Tempest said, gazing up at the significantly taller Chantry brother with her hands on her hips.  
Sebastian sighed, pausing for a moment from his work of cleaning the braziers and tried not to look at her. “Hawke, I have work to do. I can’t teach you how to shoot a bow, at least not today.”  
Tempest moved so she was standing next to him, her curly black hair falling around her pale face. “Then I’ll just have to help you get it done faster.” The mage said, cerulean eyes glittering not unlike the very magic she learned to cast and control.  
He frowned, “Hawke,” the way his accent sounded curling around the syllables of her name made a small shiver run down her back, “Its dirty work.” It took all Tempest had not to laugh at him.  
“You’ve seen me scorch the heads off of darkspwan, throw ice-spikes into slavers’ eyes, and zap mercenaries with lightning and you think cleaning a brazier is dirty work?”  
Sebastian’s face turned pink as he looked anywhere but her, “I…” He felt her hand fall on his bicep.  
“Just let me help you, okay? You already have a lot to worry about without all of this cleaning. And after, we can go out and shoot and maybe even meet Varric at the Hanged Man for some drinks.”  
Sebastian shuffled his feet and watched Tempest’s face. Her eyes were a deep almost teal blue and were set deep into her face, giving her a more intense look. If he hadn’t known her, perhaps he would have been intimidated. After all, a tall, powerful woman such as herself wasn’t someone to be trifled with. Yet, Sebastian found himself wanting to trifle with her, to explore her reactions. He had seen anger before when she fought slavers next to Fenris, and he had certainly seen sadness when her tit of a brother left for the Templars. However, it struck him as odd that he had never seen her truly happy. He only saw her smile in the few times that he went to the Hanged Man with her, or when he visited her in her home.  
But visiting her home seemed almost as much of a sin as the thoughts of her he had. Being a brother of the Chantry, he had taken and oath of celibacy. But it seemed as if the Maker himself was testing him by just being in the presence of Tempest Hawke.  
Sebastian handed her some cleaning supplies, “Alright, deal.”


	5. Practice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian teaches Hawke how to shoot... among other things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This installment will be in Tempest's point of view. Don't know why, but I found this in a notebook of mine and it just happened to be first person POV. Enjoy you guys!!! :)

I shift my feet, sucking my cheeks in and pulling the bowstring back. Muscles tense, I breathe out through my nose and focus in on my target. “Like this?” I hear Sebastian shift behind me before his hands adjust my position with a series of gentle nudges.  
“Relax a bit more,”  
I let my shoulders slowly sink down from their drastic angles and took a deep breath to calm my stuttering pulse. “What now?”  
His hands move over my own, helping me pull the bowstring back further and steady the shot. “You want to hold it like this,” he says. His breath puffs out onto the back of my neck, smelling like the fruits we had eaten earlier that day. “Now, I’m going to let go. You have to keep the bow tense and steady, alright Lass?”  
“Alright,”  
He lets go of me slowly, as if he doesn’t want to leave; I keep the bow exactly how he told me to. “Breath in,”  
I suck in a sharp breath through my nose. I hear him laugh behind me.  
“Keep your belly tense, but don’t stress yourself. Good, just like that. Now pull it back a bit more, exhale… now shoot as you let out that breath.”  
My breath comes out from between my lips with a woosh, and in an instant the arrow flew from my hands with a twang and…  
Miss terribly, nearly hitting a stray cat wandering in the courtyard. “Damn,” I mumble, face flushing as I cross my arms over my chest, bow pressing into my body at awkward angles. Sebastian shakes with quiet laughter, hiding a smile behind one of his hands. “Don’t laugh! It wasn’t that bad.”  
That only made his shoulders shake harder and his smile grow wider as he attempted to hide the amusement behind his hands.  
I put my hands on my hips, “Just because I can cast spells doesn’t mean I can shoot an arrow into a target.”  
He places his hand on the top of my head, smile uncontained, and patted my head like he would a child. “It just takes practice, Lass.”


	6. Something Special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Sebastian's birthday, and Hawke invites him over for a surprise.

“Well, it is a surprise, Sebastian. I’m not supposed to tell you what it is, that ruins the fun!” Merrill stated, her large green eyes watching Sebastian.  
“Is Tem- I mean, Hawke, hurt?”  
“Heavens, no! That would be a terrible surprise! And even if she was, you wouldn’t be the first one I’d go to. Anders, after all, is a wonderful healer. Even though I don’t think he likes me much…”  
“So, what’s the problem then? Does she need help with something>”  
Merrill smiled at Sebastian, her hands clasped in front of her. It was then that he realized they were in front of Hawke’s house. “Go on, then. It’s not nice to keep people waiting!” She said, nudging him towards the door.  
Sebastian glanced at the Dalish elf before turning the door knob and entering the front room. The house was completely quiet, as it had been since Hawke’s mother died. He could see a fire flickering in the main room and took careful, even steps into it. Hawke’s house always made him nervous, as if he was trespassing even when invited in. No, that wasn’t it, he felt like he was disobeying the Maker himself every time he stepped through the threshold. It was as if getting to know Hawke, bit by bit, was slowly chipping at the edges of the oath he had made.  
He could smell Tempest before he saw her; the soft scent of her hair never failed to distract him. It was a mix of lavender and sea-salt. Sebastian shivered just thinking about it. Stepping into the living room, he found Tempest sitting in front of the flames, the light flickering warmly over her pale skin.  
“You called, Hawke?”  
Tempest’s head snapped up like she was being jolted out of a nightmare. “So Merrill didn’t get lost, I see.” She said with a tiny smile.  
Sebastian’s lips curved upward as he leaned against the doorframe, “She tried to, but I know the way to your house.”  
Tempest patted the spot next to her on the floor, pulling her knees up to her chest.  
“So what’s this I hear about a surprise?” He asked, lowering himself down next to her.  
“I thought we could spend your birthday together, just the two of us,”  
Sebastian tensed, watching that innocent flicker in her eyes. The naivety seemed somehow to take a more seductive turn with the firelight in it, making her sharp eyes burn into him more than usual. By Andraste, she didn’t know what she was asking him. But he couldn’t deny the girl’s request. In fact, he had secretly been hoping to see her alone without Anders’ puppy eyes or Fenris’ glaring or Isabela’s teasing.  
“I even made dinner. But it’s your birthday, so you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. We can always go have a drink at the Hanged Man, if you’d like.”  
Sebastian leaned back on his palms, watching the fire with a small smile. “And what would you serve me if I stayed, Lady Hawke?”  
She scoffed, hitting him on the arm, “Oh please, I’m about as much of a lady as you are.”  
Sebastian pretended to fan himself, struggling to hide a smile. “What ever do you mean? You wound my womanly pride, dear Hawke!”  
Tempest rolled her eyes, bumping her shoulder with his. “Anyways, it isn’t anything fancy; just something I managed to scrounge up.”  
Sebastian folded his hands in his lap. “Can’t cook?”  
Tempest’s eyes moved to the fire once again as she shrugged, “I can, but that doesn’t have to do with it tasting good.”  
Sebastian grinned, “Then how about I teach you?”  
Hawke glanced up at him, the smell of her hair wafting into Sebastian’s nose as her hair flicked over her shoulder with the sudden movement. “But it’s your birthday! I wanted to do something special for you…”  
Sebastian didn’t think as he leaned over and pressed his face into his hair. He also didn’t think when his fingers filled the spaces between hers as his lips brushed the soft skin of her throat on the sensitive spot right beneath her ear and whispered, “I already have something special, Lady Hawke.”


	7. Flashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders blowing up the Chantry and Hawke and company's reaction to it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was feeling especially angst-ey when I wrote this. Also, these ficlits are in no sort of order, so I'm sorry if this confused you a bit. Enjoy!

It started with light, light seeming brighter than Andraste herself. Time slowed and Kirkwall was, for a moment, saturated with the warmth radiating from the Chantry; a beacon of hope for all of those that were lost. For some, it was quick; a flash of orange lightning before smoke choked them. Other could only remember it in slow-motion, the red flames curling into the sky like lost clouds trying to touch the surface of heaven and feel for itself what the Maker feels above all mortals, watching silently from his throne.  
But when Hawke saw it, she could only see Vengeance; and she understood. Before thinking, her lips formed the beginning of her best friend’s name, right as Sebastian fell to his knees.  
“Anders…” Tempest whispered.  
“Maker, no!” Sebastian shouted.  
Anders only sat down on a crate, folding his hands in his lap. “It had to be done; mages will never be free without a push. Now there’s a chance. A chance for all of us.”  
“How could you? All of those people… all of the innocents… Elthina… I’ll kill you, mage!” Sebastian lunged, butt Hawke stood between them before any damage was done.  
“Enough.” Her voice was quiet, but authoritative as always. Sebastian’s chest plate was pressed into her hand while Anders’ eyes were watching them, a deathly calm within them.  
“It’s okay Hawke, let him. I deserve it.” Anders said.  
It was quiet save for the crackling of fires and distant screams of the people. The sweat on Hawke’s forehead dripped down onto her left cheek. She pressed more firmly against Sebastian’s chest. “Anders, I-“  
Sebastian tensed under her touch, “You can’t really be considering to let him live after this?”  
Tempest remained silent, her body rigid as her eyes searched Anders’ face.  
“Do what you will with me, but the movement has already begun.” Anders said.  
“Hawke,” Sebastian growled between clenched teeth.  
Tempest flinched. Her other followers watched everything unfold; quiet, observing the possible death of someone they had once considered a friend; someone they had once played Wicked Grace with and drank with at the table of the Hanged Man. Hawke’s eyes closed as she dropped her hands to her sides. Sebastian didn’t move as she took a blade from Isabela’s waist. “I’m sorry, Anders. I… I don’t think I can ever forgive myself for…”  
Anders held her eyes while she kneeled in front of him. “I know. Just please, make it quick, Tempest.” He whispered.  
Sebastian and the others watched in horror as Tempest’s arms encircled her friend, her knuckles white around the knife pressing into Anders’ back. Sebastian felt a pang of jealousy in his chest at the look of tenderness in his Hawke’s eyes, and he only wished that he could be the one driving the blade into the man’s heart.  
“Do it,” Anders whispered. He smelled of magic and elfroot, the same smell of his clinic Tempest had visited so many times when she seemed hurt beyond repair. But Anders had always managed to fix her up, the concentration in his eyes as blue magic delved into her from his palms, as he rubbed salves onto scratches and dressed her wounds while discussing politics or Justice or even just what kind of pies tasted the best. Anders eyes moved to Sebastian. “You better keep her safe, Sebastian. No matter what happens today.”  
Sebastian turned away, scowling. “End it, Hawke.” He said shortly. He didn’t need the mage to chastise him.  
Tempest pressed her face into feathered pauldrons. “Anders, I’m sorry. Tell Justice I’m sorry, too.”  
There was a glittering of the blade, almost like the wings of fairies children claimed to be lurking between grass blades or within daffodils, before it disappeared into Anders’ back. He took a shuddering breath. He smelled like blood and metal.  
Tempest pulled the knife gingerly from Anders as she pulled away before handing it back to Isabela. She stood to her full height, squaring her shoulders, eyes set foreword as her companions waited for someone to break the silence.  
Varric took a step toward her. “Hawke?”  
“Sebastian, Aveline, Fenris, come with me. The rest of you,” She paused, glancing at Anders’ body, “Find survivors; make sure they’re safe.”  
“Where are you going, sweets?” Isabela asked quietly.  
“To end this.”  
Sebastian couldn’t look at her as she swiped a bloody finger over the bridge of her nose, leaving a stripe of red over her pale skin.


	8. Cake Baking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian takes it upon himself to teach Hawke to bake. Silliness ensues.

Tempest had never tasted Sebastian's cake before. Hell, she hadn't had cake since her mother passed; the memories of birthdays in her old Ferelden home were too overwhelming. But Sebastian was determined to teach her how to bake properly, and told her that they might as well start off with something delicious. And that's how she ended up in her kitchem, black curls pulled out of her face with a ribbon and a chef's hat on her head (courtesy of Sebastian, of  course). It wasn't her ideal Saturday activity, as she often visited Isabela or dropped in on Anders and - undoubtedly - got into some sort of trouble, as always. But Tempest would take all the time she could get with Sebastian.

"You ready lass?"

Tempest jolted before adjusting her hat and offering her friend a small smile. "Only if you're ready to see the extent of my horrible baking skills, 'Bastian."

He only rolled his eyes before dusting his hands with flour as he placed it in a nearby bowl. "I'm sure you aren't _that_  bad," he hummed, rubbing his hands together. "Now, get me the sugar."

Tempest rolled her eyes, "This is going to be a disaster, just warning you."

Sebastian laughed, "I'm sure it won't be that bad, Hawke."

***

It was a disaster. The kitchen was filled with smoke, flour covered almost everything, and in the middle of it all sat a cake that looked more like it belonged in the bottom of Hawke's fireplace than on the fine platter. Sebastian coughed as he tried to wave the smoke out of the window with his hands. Tempest sighed, "I told you I was unteachable, but no, you didn't listen."

Sebastian smiled sheepishly, "It was my fault..." he mumbled as his eyes drifted to the growing bruise he had imprinted on her throat while they waited for the cake to bake. When his eyes met her's again, his smile grew, dazzling white teeth peeking out from behind his lips,

"Maybe we can try again, soon?"


	9. Nobility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian is king of Starkhaven and after a few years of pushing it off, he finally has to choose a woman to rule at his side and produce an heir with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! If you like this, check out my other fanfic (it's about Zevran) here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/3809311/chapters/8488438  
> And if you want sneak peaks or if you just wanna make my day, follow me on tumblr here: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/theironcolemance  
> Enjoy you guys! Updates on this every Monday, and for my other fanfiction (if you're interested) is on Thursdays.

            He hadn’t expected to become the ruler of Starkhaven, but then again he hadn’t expected the Chantry and everyone in it to blow up. He was supposed to take a wife; a noble, no less. Probably some hoity-toity woman who would only want him for the throne. Sebastian scoffed. There had been a time when he was engaged to be in a chaste marriage with a woman he found himself unable to deny. Tempest Hawke, and oh was she more than the name suggested. She was a whiplash of spells and mage-rights and long black hair framing her rounded face. Just as beautiful as she was powerful.

            But she had disappeared after everything that happened in Kirkwall, after she put a knife into her best friend’s back through Sebastian’s pressuring. He wondered if she blamed him, if she ran not only from the authorities, but from him. Her lover, her betrothed, and, as she once told him, her everything, was now betraying her by gazing at the women in front of him, lined up like cattle for what he called “wife-inspection.” Of course, this had been going on for weeks. Day after day of noble women parading in front of him, trying to impress him, yet out of all their beauty he couldn’t find himself wanting them. Sebastian found himself thinking, instead, about his old lover, his runaway companion, his Hawke.

            He sat on his throne – something he still wasn’t used to, even after two years – and watched a woman, hooded and clothed in damp, worn travelling clothes. Likely she hadn’t been able to escape the rain pouring outside before coming into his throne room. She was the last of the day, and Sebastian’s patience was running thin. He stretched out on his throne, legs and arms spread out as he leaned his head on his hand. All he wanted now was a plush bed and perhaps a novel, if he had no pressing letters or reports to deal with, of course. But his advisors (and even a handful of trusted friends) told him that an heir to the throne was needed, and the he could no longer wait for (his) Hawke to appear. He needed to take a wife – and soon, if his advisors had any say in the matter. So Sebastian had been talking for days with suitable wives, and where some were kind, others he found either incredibly cruel or boring. It wasn’t that he found all the women unattractive in both personality and looks, in fact some he found quite charming, it was the fact that they weren’t Hawke that threw him off. So excuse him if he was tired of ruling Starkhaven and searching (in vain) for a bride. The hooded woman shuffled her feet under the kind’s gaze. Her hands flexed and clenched into fists.

            “You’re here to court me, no?”

            She chuckled and swiped at her face – stray rain, perhaps? “I’ve always heard that kings were to court their queens, your highness.” She spoke his title teasingly, as if his being kind was an inside joke between them.

            Sebastian raised an eyebrow. He knew he had heard that voice before, but he dismissed it as he replied. “Yes, but I am a king who has no time to waste on courtship.”

            “A good queen is hardly a waste,”

            The woman’s tone held authority and snark he had only heard from one other person he had ever met. He leaned towards her on his throne, resting his chin on his fist as he narrowed his eyes to focus on her. “True, but it seems my intended queen is nowhere to be found. I’ve no time for love, only duty.” Sebastian was sure – if this was who he thought it was – she was rolling her eyes at him.

            “Always so serious, ‘Bastian. You could use a break.”

             He stood up, rolling his shoulders to relieve the ache the day brought him, “Kings don’t get breaks, my lady.”

             She put her hands on her hips, cloak parting to show the worn attire of a mage. “Then how are heirs born and queens courted?”

             He stepped carefully towards the woman, a piece of slicked back hair falling out of place and into his eyes, “Heirs are business, not breaks, and only good queens are courted.”

             She stood her ground, remaining quiet until Sebastian reached her, sliding his hands under her hood and pushing it back as he cupped her face. “Not if you have the right queen to produce an heir with.”

             He smiled at her, “Lady Tempest Hawke,” he breathed.

             Her smile was slight, teasing, but tired. The years, though had been kind to her looks, seemed to wear at the edges of her soul. “My king,” she replied.

             “I never expected to see you again, Hawke. Where have you been? I haven’t even heard from you since Kirk-“

             She cut him off with a gentle kiss on the lips, one hand on his cheek while the other rested right where his neck met his shoulder. She pulled away slowly, breath brushing over Sebastian’s lips. “I was out saving the world; what else would I be doing?”

             “Without me?”

             She grinned, “I could hardly take the king of Starkhaven away from his people, now could I?”

              “Hawke, do you even know how long I’ve waited to hear from you? Why didn’t you write to me, give me any indication that you were…” He paused, eyes searching hers.

             “Alive?” She whispered back.

             His breath left his lungs in a whoosh. “Maker, Hawke, yes. I thought- I didn’t know if- and you just waltz in here and… and kiss me like it hasn’t been two years! That’s not fair, Hawke.” At that point, his hands had moved to the mage’s shoulders, squeezing them tight.

             “Would you rather continue to believe me dead?”

             Silence crept in through the crack under the door, the open windows, flooding the throne room as Sebastian clutched at Hawke’s shoulders. Then, “That’s not what I meant.”

             Tempest offered a smile that ended just below the bags under her eyes, “I know, ‘Bastian.” Then her arms were around his midsection, her face pressed into his shoulder. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”

             He didn’t reply, too busy leaving soft kisses on the top of her head and drinking in the scent of her hair.

            “Sebastian?”

             He hummed in recognition.

             “I… Is there a queen yet?”

              He cracked a smile, “There always has been, she’s just been too busy saving the world to recognize her queenly duties.”

             Tempest laughed, “Queenly duties, huh? Don’t make me regret coming back, ‘Bastian.”

             Sebastian smiled, “Oh please, you’d never regret me, even if you tried.”


	10. Isabela

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello loves!  
> As always, thanks for reading!  
> I'm sorry if this isn't my best work, I had a lot of trouble getting this cranked out to update today. No clue why! But I really didn't want to get off schedule and disappoint you guys because I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!  
> So, I hope you like it anyways! I don't know if I did the characters okay (especially Isabela and Aveline), but hey, practice makes perfect, ey?  
> LOVE YOU AND ENJOY!!!  
> EDIT: I realized that Isabela says "sweet thing" and I'm stupid and haven't played DA2 in a while so I changed the "sweetcheeks" to that. Also, I realized that I capitalized a word that wasn't supposed to be capitalized and I died a little so I changed that as well

It was ladies’ night. At least, according to Isabela. Ever since she came along, she tied all of the girls within Hawke’s group together through silly drinking games (even if not all of them participated) and gossip about boys and even fighting strategies, if they felt like being serious. Even Aveline went to ladies’ night, taking off of her usual Wednesday patrols around Kirkwall to have a drink and relax as much as the captain of the guard could. But tonight, Hawke broke the biggest, most important rule of their Wednesday meetings; she brought a boy. More specifically, a Choir Boy.

            "Sweet thing, I don’t mind you bringing us eye-candy to play with, but next time maybe don’t bring the celibate one? You should’ve brought Fenris,” Isabela smirked at the thought of her elven lover, “He most certainly wouldn’t mind a good –“

            Aveline cleared her throat loudly before shooting Isabela a glare, “Stop talking, whore. I’d much rather not hear about what you and Fenris do in your spare time.”

            Isabela winked, “Oh, sure you don’t,”

            Merrill smiled, “Well _I’m_ glad you’re here. You always tell nice stories and your r’s are pretty.” She giggled, leaning toward Sebastian and trying out her own Brogue accent on the man. “I’ve been practicing!”

            Sebastian smiled, trying not to laugh at the giggling, drunk elf who was saying his name over and over in an accent very much unlike his own, “Thank you, Merrill.” He glanced back at Hawke. “I… didn’t know it was ladies’ night. I can go, if you’d like.”

            Isabela laughed, pressing him down into a chair and sitting on his lap, a playful smile on her lips as she waved a drink under his nose. “You’re already here, might as well stay and enjoy the fun, handsome.”

            Sebastian’s face flushed red, “Maker forgive me,” he mumbled.

            Merrill giggled, fingering the edge of her cup, “See, pretty r’s!”

            Hawke smiled, “Having a good time, ‘Rill?”

            Aveline snorted, “If you could only have been here earlier to see the stunt she pulled. Thought I wouldn’t be able to get her off of the table.”

            “Responsible as always, Avey.” Hawk said, waving a finger.

            “Well _someone_ has to be the voice of reason in your band of misfits.”

            Isabela waved down the bartender, “Another round of shots, if you would. Oh, and put them on Hawke’s tab this time.”

            Tempest grumbled, plopping down in a chair, “No fair, ‘Bela.”

            “Bringing the priest that I can’t play with isn’t fair, either. Besides, you were late because you were too busy trying to get him out of his chastity belt to bother to come to ladies’ night.”

            Sebastian’s face was the color of Hawke’s night robe as he rubbed his cheek “We were practicing archery, actually…”

            “With or without clothes?”

            “In armor! All metal armor!”

            “It was actually the new leathers we got a few days ago,” Tempest corrected.

            Isabela grinned, moving so her legs straddled Sebastian’s hips, “Oh, the Choir Boy has a kink!”

            Sebastian covered his face with his hands and groaned, “No, Maker, no… It’s not like that!”

            Isabela tossed a smirk at Tempest and winked, “Can I join sometime, sweet thing? Promise I won’t disappoint.”

            Merrill was, by then, facedown on the table laughing herself into a stupor while Aveline stood up and uncomfortably tried to drag the elf to her feet. “I have to take Merrill home, I think she’s had quite enough for the night.”

            Merrill mumbled something to herself before bursting into another fit of giggles and Isabela pouted, squirming as she turned to look at her two friends, “But ladies’ night has just begun!”

            Sebastian was looking increasingly uncomfortable and his eyes met Hawke’s over Isabela’s shoulder as he mouthed a pitiful _“Help me,”_

            Hawke sighed, “Alright, ‘Bela, time to get off Sebastian. I think he’s done for tonight. Besides, I’m tired as well. I only came in to say hello.”

            “But you didn’t even get a drink!”

            “I will next week,”

            “Hawke!”

            It was then that the bartender returned with their drinks, and also that Aveline walked out of the Hanging Man with Merrill leaning and laughing against the guard’s side. Sebastian scrambled to his feet as Isabela got off of him. “Hawke, I’m going to, ah, go...” Sebastian mumbled.

            “All right, I’ll be just a second.”

            Isabela slung an arm around Hawke’s waist, “Just one shot, for the road.”

            Tempest rolled her eyes and took the drink from the Isabela’s hand, “For the road,” she agreed, tipping her head back and downing it.


	11. Mornings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit short today, but I enjoyed writing it! I hope you guys like it, I love all of you.

Sebastian found that mornings with Hawke were much different than expected. He hadn't thought she would ever visit him in the Chantry so early _or_ so often, especially considering she was an apostate. The first time she visited, he had anticipated her to talk about business or some important mission she needed him on. After all, he _had_ offered her his services. Needless to say he was surprised when she brought along a basket of pastries. 

"A peace offering," she said, "not even Templars can turn down turnovers."  She came back exactly a week later with a pie.

"Templars giving you trouble?" Sebastian joked.

Hawke only smiled, "No, these are for the orphans."

"So _children_ are giving you trouble?"

She only laughed and started to cut out the pieces.

Though Sebastian enjoyed morning pastries, he found himself liking Hawke's company more. Some mornings, when she came late and the Chant of Light was already being recited, he would watch her mouthing the words, her voice too quiet to hear over the small group of morning Chanters. Other times she arrived extra early and he would find her sitting on the pews swinging her legs or telling stories to the children awake enough to listen. On those days he pretended he woke up late and hid upstairs in the shadows, watching her talk animatedly about one of their adventures.

On mornings she didn't visit, he often played scenarios in his head of what they'd be doing if she had, some more farfetched (like stealing kisses behind the statue of Andraste under the eyes of the Maker) than others. Maybe they would be cleaning out the braziers, or practicing archery in the courtyard, or eating breakfast with the children. Sometimes Sebastian got so caught up in his daydreams he wouldn't realize it was time for the Chant to be sung, or he would accidentally bump into someone, or (by far the worst thing of all) Hawke would show up and leave him flushed as if she knew he was thinking about her. Mornings with Hawke were definitely becoming one of his favorite things.

He found himself addicted to the way she cared about him, always checking up on him or worrying over his health. When he pointed it out, she had blushed and told him it was only motherly instinct, natural for someone who had been taking care of her family since her father had died. She also taught him that turnovers don’t always convince Templars of her innocence, and a handful of times she was nearly caught working small amounts of healing magic on children with scathed knees or nasty bruises. Of course Sebastian always found himself intervening when Templars confronted her, and though she knew very well the stakes of getting caught, she never failed to laugh with the adrenaline of nearly being caught. Sebastian found himself falling in love.


	12. Nights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is so short, I updated this along with another story I have on here called The Assassin's Mark.  
> But I do hope you enjoy this one, even if its small. I like to think that Sebastian likes cuddling and helping people, and since cuddling and helping Hawke kind of go hand in hand after all the shit she's been through, I thought it would be cute to see how he spends nights with her.  
> If you're interested in Zevran and all of his elven, assassin glory romancing a fem!Tabris you can look here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/3809311/chapters/8488438  
> If you're interested in my tumblr, here's a link: http://theironcolemance.tumblr.com/  
> Now on to the interesting things! Enjoy

            Nights were made considerably different when Hawke came along. It turned from prayers being whispered in candle-lit corners, asking for strength, hope, and justice for the murder of his family to game of wicked grace in the Hanged Man and long nights watching the fire in Hawke’s fireplace, her body pressed to his side. Sometimes he wondered if the Maker was mocking him when Hawke and Merrill stood on the tabletops of the Hanged Man (almost high enough for Sebastian to see under Hawke’s robes) and sang or danced to their own drunken tune.

            Other times he thanked Andraste for bringing someone so perfect to him. Perfect in the way she fit into his side, the way she fought for her rights – even if sometimes he didn’t agree with her politics. When their nights weren’t spent together, he found himself turning to tell her a joke or tell her some tidbit of who he was before the Chantry was pushed into his lap. After getting accustomed to spending the night at her house, sometimes curled around her in bed (though only on the especially foul nights), grasping at empty bedsheets, searching for her warmth, the scent of her skin. By Andraste, he loved nights with Hawke.


	13. Firsts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late, I've had exams this whole week so I was studying when this was supposed to be posted. But... this is the second to last installment! I will be moving on to a more permanent story, I guess you could say. But enjoy the last two chapters! The next one comes out this upcoming Monday!

I. 

She was sitting on the steps in front of the Chantry when he first saw her, and when he later talked to her, wondered (Andraste forgive him) if she was the Maker’s bride reincarnated. She certainly had the beauty - curly black hair framing a heart-shaped face, pale skin and bright blue eyes that only became all the more striking when turned to you. She held an air of intelligence, confidence, and he wasn’t exactly sure what to do with the goddess he worshiped standing right in front of him as she was.   
  
II.

The first time he found out she had nightmares was also the first time he spent the night with her. If you asked him what he had been doing there so late at night he would likely laugh and say he didn’t remember, and that it was likely he just went on a whim. He stepped into her room after Bodahn let him in, looking worse for wear with large dark circles under his eyes and his nightclothes wrinkled.

“You’re here awfully late, messere,”

Sebastian rubbed his chilled arms,, “I… couldn’t sleep. Is Hawke still awake?” Then he heard a soft cry from her bedroom, making him jump at the sudden break in the silent night.

Bodahn ushered Sebastian into the front room, his eyes darkened with worry, “She’s asleep.”

Sebastian glanced at Bodahn, watching the dwarf’s hands wringing as a another muffled scream of “No!” came from upstairs.

He didn’t speak as he pushed past Bodahn and stomped up the stairs. “She’s hurt, Bodahn! Why are you just standing there?”   
Before the dwarf could reply, Sebastian ripped open the door, slamming it against the wall as he stormed into the bedroom. The quiet, almost still bedroom. 

Hawke squirmed, blankets tangled around her, hands clawing at the sheets, whimpers coming out of parted lips. Bodahn tried to nudge Sebastian out of the room, “It’s just night terrors, messere, there’s nothing you can do for her.”

But Sebastian ignored him as he tugged off his armor, leaving him in a loos shirt and leggings as he tugged the blankets off of Tempest with a light touch. “Hawke,” he said, voice soft as he sat on the edge of her bed.   


She squirmed, gasping out another “no” as her eyes opened. She blinked, clearing out whatever nightmare that still played in the back of her eyes. Her hand gripped his, trembling, “’Bastian?” She whispered.

“It’s alright Hawke, it was just a dream.”

 

She tugged him into a hug, hands shaking on his back as she held him there, “’Bastian, please stay.”

He slid under the blankets with her. “Always.”   


III. 

He first saw her use her magic when they were getting attacked by bandits. Her hands lit up with lightning, sparking from finger to finger as she pushed it towards the leader and it arced from bandit to bandit. But when she slammed her staff on the ground and energy started to crackle in the air, storm clouds appearing, he finally understood where the name Tempest came from. He watched her dispatch the enemy with relative ease. That is, until the fight was over and she kneeled down, breathing heavy. Anders sat next to her, hand on her shoulder. “You shouldn’t push yourself so hard.”

She grinned, curls whipping her face as the wind blew, “And you shouldn’t worry so much.”

_Maker_ , Sebastian thought,  _give me strength to keep to my vows._ He would need it with Hawke around.


	14. Lasts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last one, you guys!  
> Thank you for reading, and stay tuned into my tumblr for a sneak peak of the story I will be posting this upcoming Monday! Sorry this is so short lovelies, but enjoy nevertheless.  
> tumblr: http://theironcolemance.tumblr.com/

I.    Sebastian knew Hawke would heed the call of the Inquisition, perhaps that is the reason he kept the letter from Varric away from her. But, of course, she found out about it anyway.

“Hawke, you’ve already done your fair share for Thedas! Just say no.” Sebastian said.

Tempest would have none of it, and he knew that he was losing their argument when her eyes took on the likeness of one of the storms that gave her her name and she placed her hands on her hips. “Corypheus is back, Sebastian. I can’t just sit here and watch the rest of the world burn!”

II.    The night before she left, Tempest made Sebastian’s favorite tea, one they used to drink together in front of the fireplace in her old Kirkwall home. It was a tradition that had long-since faded due to Sebastian being king and Hawke being either on the run, or being his queen. That night, they sat in front of the fireplace in their bedroom, Tempest nestled into Sebastian’s side.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” she whispered, leaving a lingering kiss on his cheek.

“Do you promise?

Tempest smiled, “I promise.”

Months later, a letter from Varric came. Sebastian drank his tea by the fire alone,

his side cold. Hawke had broken her promise.


End file.
